Book Review: RABBIT, RUN, by John Updike

So, I confess, I didn't finish this book. Sad as it is, I made it a third of the way through, came to that realization that I didn't like any of the characters or find them interesting and didn't particularly care what happened to them--and so I put it down. This is always a tricky moment for me. I hate quitting books in the middle. I mean, what if it got interesting three pages after my stopping point? That thought can plague me for a long while, but, like I said, I quit caring what happened to Harry "Rabbit" Angstrom, really. He flirted with the idea of being lively and mysterious but settled instead for, well, annoying. A damn shame if you ask me.

Updike's prose, however, was stunning, and I could've read a whole book of it, easy, if he had some of that plot stuff to serve along with it. As it is, RABBIT jogs along at this horrible real-time pace, where a single sex scene takes ten pages, because every little detail needs describing, and one-third of the book only covers a single evening, in all its agonizing glory. Bah.

But if I just missed the getting-good, please tell me. Hit Make a Comment below and say, "Thea, you fool, you better finish that book"--I'll take you at your word, and do it. Until then, however, it's going back on my shelves, dog-earred exactly where I stopped.


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